


Reverb

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Acceptance, Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Deaf Character, Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M, Miscommunication, Night Vale Headcanon, Romance, This fic fits within canon but is not itself technically canon, This fic relies on headcanon, Universe Alteration, making discoveries, nobody's ever actually said Carlos listens to Cecil's show only that he knows it exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody is perfect. They become perfect when you learn to accept them for what they are. And sometimes, that means realizing that not all imperfections are faults and that you, yourself, are not perfect, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverb

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and cleaned-up kinkmeme fill for the following:
> 
> _In response to a tumblr post I saw, how about an AU where Carlos is deaf? How would that change things? At least he would not be able to hear Cecil's show..._
> 
> The following should be noted: Cecil is not actually an asshole about disabilities. He just legitimately has never had to discuss them before and so says some rather tactless things.
> 
>  
> 
> Also: the device Carlos mentions, a TDD or Telephonic Device for the Deaf, actually exists. Unfortunately, they do not exist in the form Carlos uses. Carlos has hacked his own TDD so that by turning on speakerphone and a voice-recognition program, he can get TDD-format messages. In real life, either both parties have to own a TDD (which is a lot like texting, only with a landline), or the party that does not own a TDD must call/be called through a relay interpretation service, or RIS. The relay operator gets TDD messages, reads them to the party that doesn't have a TDD, and then takes responses and types them to the person who does have a TDD. Carlos' souped-up TDD relies on two headcanons of mine: the first is that since time in the outside world moves faster than time in Night Vale, it's actually significantly later than 2013 in the outside world and so technology has advanced; the second is that Carlos can MacGyver the shit out of _anything_ to produce solutions that may be odd and ungainly, but do actually work.

"I really don't think it's asking too much for you to call if you're going to be late."

Silence. Cecil lets go of the lab door, and it swings shut on creaky hinges Carlos should really oil. Cecil folds his arms.

"I know, your work is important, and it's the whole reason you're in Night Vale, and sometimes things come up but that's why they invented _telephones_ , Carlos."

More silence. Cecil is beyond irked, now; Cecil is ready to be angry.

"Will you _answer me?_ "

Nothing from the table. This time Cecil lets out a frustrated groan and strides across the lab to make Carlos stop ignoring him, grabs his shoulder and spins him after only the barest glance to be sure he's not handling acid.

"God, Carlos, what are you, deaf?"

The words are still ringing in the air--metaphorically, as opposed to last week's actual corporeal words that led to Cecil's show being canceled with his consent for the first time ever simply because the words were taking up so much space in the booth he was having a hard time breathing--and Cecil already regrets them.

Because first Carlos' face was genuinely startled, and now it's tense.

Tense as only a cruel comment can make it. A cruel, _accurate_ comment.

"Oh my god," Cecil breathes, and suddenly a whole multitude of things make sense: the creaky hinges. The shutter that bangs against Carlos' window during storms that he never fixes. The way he chews, the way he always seems to break out in non sequiturs during meetings. The way the lights flash when Carlos' telephone rings, something Cecil thought was just a peccadillo on the part of the building; the way Carlos' Faceless Old Woman leaves notes written on his bathroom mirror in toothpaste instead of speaking to him.

The way Carlos has never once shown the slightest interest in Cecil's show.

"You are," Cecil says, and Carlos doesn't answer, his face shuttered and clouded. "You actually _are_. Carlos, I'm so sorry, I--" He bites his tongue before a flood of words Carlos can't hear come tumbling out, and then he sees Carlos' eyes still fixed on his lips even though his face is the picture of _I don't want to talk_. And for so much time, Cecil assumed that was an I-want-to-kiss-you look. Ugh. "I should have guessed. I didn't pay attention."

"I thought you knew," Carlos says, and looks at the clunky old telephone sitting on his desk. Cecil's wondered about that telephone, old and junky-looking where everything else in the lab is sleek and new. "You've seen me use the TDD."

"The--what?"

"TDD," Carlos repeats, and Cecil feels his face make a confused expression in spite of himself. Carlos' words come out of his mouth neatly and almost perfectly articulated, like beads on a string. "Telephonic Device for the Deaf. Mine is a little cannibalized, I figured out how to add voice-recognition software so I could get calls from people who don't have one, but the college still uses the actual typing machine when we talk."

"I thought it was a fax machine," Cecil admits, and Carlos blinks at him in surprise. Then he starts laughing, and Cecil feels his mouth quirk up in a tentative smile. "You don't--I mean--when you talk, you--" Finally he realizes there's no good way to say it. "I've heard people who are deaf talk before. You don't sound like them."

"You've probably heard people deaf from birth talk before," Carlos answers. "I lost my hearing when I was twenty-five. That helps a lot. And you're easy to lipread. You articulate well. That helps too."

"I know ASL," Cecil offers, feeling suddenly like he's crossing a stream of lava on a narrow path of rocks--something he's actually done, when Night Vale spontaneously became a video game level for a week. "If that's easier for you, I mean, I don't know--"

Carlos shakes his head. "I know some, but learning to lipread was more important if I wanted to stay in this line of work. You can't take notes and sign at the same time, and most of the people I work with don't know it either." He looks down at his microscope, the work he was doing when Cecil came in and started yelling at his turned back. "I can't do everything I could do before, but you'd be amazed what you can do with no hearing." The edges of his mouth quirk up in a wry smile. "And apparently my interns like being able to listen to Lady Gaga without bitching from the man in charge."

Cecil grins. That seems safe enough. Carlos' smile fades.

"I thought you'd realized being deaf doesn't make me broken," he says, and Cecil bites his lip. "I . . . honestly, I never sat down with you to talk about it because I liked being treated just like everybody else, and if you already knew then it'd just make things awkward, talking about it. I didn't want you to think I was looking for special treatment. I get enough of that from people who think they can magically make me hear again if they just talk really slowly."

"I know you're not broken." But the words feel flat. "But it does make a bit of a difference if I'm yelling at you for ignoring me, and you don't even know I'm there." Better. Carlos' lips twitch.

"I guess it does." He runs a hand through Cecil's hair, caps the microscope. "But not so much you have to walk around with an expression like that, really, Cecil, I think I've seen murderers who looked less guilty."

"I was yelling at you for something that wasn't your fault!"

"And I didn't hear a word of it, so no harm done. Tap the table next time, you'll get a better response."

"Tap the--what?"

Carlos frowns in thought. Then he takes Cecil's hands--gently, but Cecil still feels his stomach swoop, just like always--and lays them on the table. Then he turns his hand and raps two knuckles on the metal surface.

Cecil feels the raps--one, two, three, four--vibrate along the pad of each finger, settle into his palms, and he gasps, suddenly delighted. "That's how you hear!"

"That's how everybody hears," Carlos tells him. "Sound is just vibration of air. The only difference is that my ears don't communicate with thin air the way yours do, most of the time. Sometimes if I'm right next to something that should make a really strong noise, like a pipe organ or the bell in the clock tower, I feel like I can still hear it when the air moves. Not the way it sounds to you, but . . . something, almost."

Cecil nods. On the table, Carlos' phone goes off, rattling across the surface on the Vibrate setting, annoying Cecil with the jangly ringtone he's always wished Carlos would change, the one he now understands. Cecil snags it with one hand, looks at the screen, rolls his eyes: Carlos didn't forget. Carlos set his reminder alarm an hour late. He looks back up at Carlos.

And then he throws his arms around Carlos' neck and presses his lips to Carlos' ear. "Can you hear this?" he asks, and Carlos laughs a little and squirms away.

"That tickles," he complains, but it's all he says. Cecil feels vaguely disappointed; he's used to being the soothing background voice people don't really pay attention to, but he's not used to simply not being _heard_.

"You didn't hear me."

Carlos shrugs. "I'm not sure what you say during sex, either, so I hope it's not for my benefit. Completely."

Cecil blushes and shakes his head. Then he looks back up, waits until he catches Carlos' eyes.

"Are we going to Big Rico's sometime tonight, or should we stay here generating awkward silences to be filled only by stardust and discomfort?"

"You know, I used to think you didn't speak English," Carlos comments, as he leads Cecil away from his lab table. "Or maybe that lipreading didn't work in Night Vale. And then I realized no, you really just say some of the weirdest things."

Cecil smiles. He and Carlos have very different ideas of weird. Then he stops, hand on the doorknob, and spins around.

"I love you," he says against Carlos' lips, and decides it's okay if Carlos never hears a word of his show or a single one of the sounds he makes when they make love as long as he hears--however he hears--those three. Carlos smiles, and Cecil feels the vibrations as Carlos' lips move.

"I love you, too."


End file.
